


Fragments of a Scattered Faith

by quantumpriest



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Gore (mentions), M/M, Sexual Tension, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-03 03:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8694322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumpriest/pseuds/quantumpriest
Summary: A collection of moments between Edér and the Watcher.





	1. Chapter 1

Imari looks up at Edér as soon as the man approaches. The Elf is sat by the fire, his spear balanced on the crook of his elbow as it points skyward, pale hair up and tied in a tight knot. 

“It’s not your turn yet,” the Elf says. 

Edér sits with a groan. “Can’t sleep.”

“Your wound hurts you still?”

“A little bit, but that’s not it.”

Imari doesn’t look convinced, but makes no attempt to poke at his injury. The campfire casts long shadows, and the Elf’s is ever shifting, from man to beast and back again. Edér is mesmerized by the way the pointed ears give place to branching antlers. 

“Nightmares?” Imari asks suddenly. 

Edér shakes his head. “It’s just… this business with Aufra. It reminded me of a friend of mine. She had this child…”

“Was it Hollowborn?”

Edér nods grimly. “Raedric’s solders came for them, but I helped them escape the village. That was the last I saw of them. Don’t know if she’s still alive or if the baby’s still… you know.”

Imari bites his lower lip, thumb tracing invisible patterns on the smooth wood of his spear. Edér had forgotten, but his very first thought on Imari was that he was very small.

Well – not really. His very first thought was that he was beautiful, like a statue carved from a single block of marble. His second thought was that he gaped at a decomposing corpse very prettily. But his third thought—

His third thought was that Imari was very small. Not physically, really – he is taller and broader than Aloth –, or even in demeanor – there is a sense of purpose in the way the Elf moves, a sort of pride in how he speaks with men and women who are usually taller and certainly much better dressed than he. 

But sometimes there is a shift in his posture, a nervous shadow in his eye that reminds Edér of how far away the White is, and how odd the green forests of Dyrwood must look to someone used to snow peaked mountains and endless stretches of ice. 

“I will tell her the truth,” Imari says suddenly. “About the medicine. She deserves to know.”

“You think she’ll leave the village? If the baby’s Hollow…”

Imari stares into the fire. “She shouldn’t have to leave.”

Edér sighs through his nose. If only she had said yes… well, he wouldn’t be here, would he. With an itchy wound driving him crazy and a Watcher who likes to get involved. 

He places his hand on Imari’s shoulder. The Elf tenses and doesn’t relax, so Edér retrieves his hand and wills his comforting smile not to drop.

“She’ll be fine. I’ll drag her from the village myself if you think it’ll help.” His smile turns into a smirk. “And if that’s not good enough, well… we can always fling Raedric over the castle walls.”

Imari looks at him, with his dark eyes and his shifting shadow and his parted lips. It reminds Edér of their last battle, when the Elf shifted from beast to men among the Xaurip corpses and inspected his handiwork carelessly, pink tongue darting between his lips to lick away the blood as he rolled over a dead creature with his foot. 

The Watcher stands up suddenly, looking at the fire with an expression that is full of terrible possibilities.

Edér’s second thought is that he will bitterly regret whatever will come out of this. His first one is,

Beautiful. 


	2. Chapter 2

“We should find you some shoes,” Sagani had said.

The subject came up when the party stopped to rest at the Goose and Fox. They had pushed two smaller tables together in one quiet corner of the tavern and sat around it with their drinks in hand. All, that is, but Durance, who, Edér assumed, had gone to either sell his usual song and dance to however was willing to entertain him or bother the kitchen maids.

“I quite agree,” said Aloth. “Your feet look filthy, Watcher.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of not having him step into a piece of broken glass,” Sagani countered.

“Ah, of course.”

Kana had tried to argue that the lack of footwear “added to the Watcher’s wild persona”, and received a withering look from Imari for his troubles.

“Shoes,” Imari spat. “Fine.”

And that was how Edér had found himself in his rooms an odd hour or so later, staring into one of his boots, poor Kana passed out and snoring loudly in a nearby bed. The boot is, of course, far too big for Imari’s elven feet – as is Aloth’s, strangely enough, though Edér has been led to believe that Aloth has simply massive toes. 

It’s a pity, too. The idea of the Watcher wearing his clothes had made him oddly giddy, at least with a pint in hand. He’s entertaining allowing himself deeper into this line of thought when said Elf enters his room without knocking, as is his way.

“I cannot find Durance,” Imari announces.

Edér grins. “Lucky you.”

Imari snorts, walking around where Edér is sitting on the floor to lie carelessly on his bed, looking for all the world like he belongs there – and isn’t that a nice thought, dirty feet and all.

“Is there a hole in your boot? I could fix it, you know.”

“I was—you could?”

“Mhm.” He rolls over, belly down and feet up and swaying forward and back. “Not as well as the other men of my tribe, but it’s… passable.”

Huh. 

“Huh. That’s why you don’t wear shoes? Is it a—a thing?”

Imari graces him with an arched eyebrow. Half of his face is covered by his hair, longer now than it used to be. 

“An elf thing,” Edér clarifies.

“Is blowing up your god a human thing?”

Edér tries to cover his wince with a brittle laugh and a small, lopsided smile. “Looks like it is.”

Imari is merciful enough not to call him on his bluff.

“It’s part of our training. Feeling nature in our heels; between our toes.” He wiggles said toes. They are, like Aloth so eloquently pointed out, filthy, but evenly sized.

“Only thing I ever feel when I stick my feet in snow’s frostbite.”

Imari rolls over slowly with something that is a cross between a satisfied sigh and an exhausted groan, looking all boneless and pliant and – sweet Gaun – very well fucked. Edér wonders if maybe he’s found a patron to lie with, one of those wide-shouldered brutes that threw glances at him earlier and thought themselves subtle. The mental image sends a jolt of desire-jealousy through Edér’s spine, the kind he knows he’ll only be able to get rid of with five solid minutes with his fist. 

“It requires great discipline,” Imari says, drawing Edér from his thoughts. 

“I, uh, I was in the army.”

“I can see that.” The Watcher throws his - long, long – legs over the side of the bed and stands up. His eyes are hooded and his pupils are dark. Edér wonders, in a small moment of panic, if he knows. “Will you tell Durance to attend me when you next see him?”

Huh.

“Huh.”

“Thank you, Edér. Goodnight.”

Edér waits until the door is closed, then a long moment after the steps fade away down the corridor. He throws his boot in a corner of the room, undoes his breaches and sinks into his mattress, burying his nose in his pillow.

He takes a small, considerate moment to send a prayer to Eothas for Kana to be as deep of a sleeper as he looks to be, and for Durance to be dead in a ditch somewhere far away. Then, he worships a different god entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait (': 
> 
> I'm considering either having 3 or 5 chapters, but expect the smut to increase as we go either way.

**Author's Note:**

> god let me finish this lmao


End file.
